A Wise Dad with Dirty Fingernails

I don't remember my dad ever coming home from work clean. I'm sure he did sometimes, but it's tough to run a peat mine without getting a moderate to severe amount of dirt on you. You should have seen our house on laundry day.

I also can't remember any hobbies of his that didn't somehow connect him to us. Dad never withdrew to have his own time, though if I'm anything like him, I'm sure he wanted to. He would make music with me, take us skiing, sit with my mom, work on the house for us, work on my car, or take us to church. If he ever did slow down, it was to watch NASCAR, and he usually fell asleep. He worked more hours than an average dad, but I never knew that. Because when he was home, he was home with all his heart.

Eventually he took me to the peat mine and put me to work. I still enjoy bragging about having run a front-end loader as a young teenager, but I'm even more glad to have seen him in work mode. He plays in the the dirt like he means it. His employees respect him because he cares for them and knows what he's doing. He goes to survey a prospective site, shoots a cottonmouth in the face, and doesn't tell us about it. The environmentalists tell him to restore an acre of wetland, and he restores two. Then he invents a way to replace peat with compost and suddenly turns commercial potting soil into a renewable resource. Nobody knows dirt like my dad. And he works it with all of his heart.

We shared several adventures and misadventures that involved a ski boat. I've never seen anyone swim faster (and I watched the 2008 Olympics) than he did the day a ski rope turned into a noose and drug my neck behind a boat. He made absolutely sure I was safe. But then he waited and waited while he was coaching me through a deep-water start on a slalom ski. In the cockpit of a boat, and everywhere else, he is an aggressive lion and a patient lamb rolled into one.

It took so long, and so much renewal of my own mind through reading the Bible, for me to see what was really going on. Why does my dad love to work in dirt? Because he's a man, who, like Adam, was made to work the earth. Why is he so naturally like both a lion and a lamb? Because he knows the Lion and the Lamb. Why does he love his bride so consistently? Because he knows a Savior who loves His bride. Why is he so good to Jacki and I? Because he knows a Father who loves His children. Everything that makes him a great dad is rooted in one thing: he knows the Lord.

My point is this: my dad isn't awesome because he read a thousand books on how to raise children. He just fears the Lord and acts like a man. Because the fear of the Lord really is the beginning of wisdom, and a wise dad is a good dad.

Now I get to watch him play with his granddaughter in the dirt, and number myself among the many dads who are trying to figure this fatherhood thing out. I think it just might work if I can remember the big lesson he silently taught me: to love the Lord and be a man. It's an intimidating calling. But if you fear the Lord, He will give you wisdom, just like He gave it to my dad. And maybe (eventually) your children will notice it.

I'm starting to.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.